


Understated, Understood

by rai87



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s17e23 Heartfelt Passages, Episode: s18e07 Next Chapter, Episode: s19e02 Mood, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rai87/pseuds/rai87
Summary: Barba wasn’t naturally comforting. He wasn’t big on outward displays of emotion and was happier with sarcasm than with sincerity. And yet Sonny found himself grateful for his undemonstrative bluntness. It balanced his own more sensitive tendencies and did more to steady him than tearful embraces and heartfelt talks.-----Snapshots of Barba being there for Carisi in his own way





	Understated, Understood

**Author's Note:**

> Partly inspired by Barba bro fist-bumping Liv in 19x01. Smooth, my man.

Sonny felt a little foolish, but Liv had insisted that Barba would want to know. He hadn’t let him shadow for all that time just to lose interest in his future once the case was over. So Liv had said. Sonny wasn’t entirely convinced, but he’d made his way to Barba’s office anyway, deliberately late in the vain hope that he’d taken a rare early night. Unfortunately the lights were still on, and when Sonny peered through the window he saw a rumpled looking Barba poring over a mess of files, his tie loose and sleeves rolled up, hair mussed from where he must have been running his hands through it. It always made Sonny smile to see him like that, so different to the impeccably put together man who showed up to court.

He took a deep breath and tapped on the door.

Barba looked up and frowned. “Detective? Did you need me?”

Sonny hovered in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and briefly considered coming up with some case related excuse for being there, before he pulled himself together.

“Uh, no,” he replied, trying to imbue some nonchalance into his voice. "Look, I know we have a lot going on right now, but I wanted to let you know, since you let me shadow and that really helped a lot, I mean  _you_  helped a lot...”

“Carisi.”

“I passed the bar,” he said in a rush. He waited and gave a small shrug when Barba’s expression didn’t change. “The Lieutenant thought I should tell you.”

Barba nodded slowly. “Okay. Good job, Carisi.”

“Thanks.”

Neither of them moved, and Sonny shifted awkwardly in his spot. “Well, anyway...”

“Hold on.” Barba got up from behind his desk and strode across the room to him. “I don’t know what you want to do next, but I can always make some calls, find out if there are any vacancies out there.”

“I’m still thinking about my options,” he said. Truth be told he’d only thought as far as passing the bar exam, and was more than a little anxious at the prospect of re-planning his entire future. “But I’d be grateful, thanks.”

“Good.” Barba's expression softened from a businesslike frown to one that looked almost pleased. “Well. Congratulations, Carisi.” He held his hand out and Sonny didn't bother to hide his grin when he took it. A handshake felt strange and overly formal, but Barba briefly tightened his grip and gave a small but genuine smile, and Sonny felt a similar burst of pride to when he’d read his number on the pass list.

“Thank you, counselor.”

Barba gave his hand a final shake then broke contact. “Thanks for letting me know,” he said, back to businesslike. "Keep me updated on the case, Detective.”

Sonny ducked his head to hide his smile at the abrupt dismissal. Apparently that moment was over. Still, he had to admit it hadn’t been quite as awkward as he was expecting, and the stomach churning pressure of being a real life lawyer was lessened by the thought that Barba had his back.

 

* * *

  

Sonny liked wakes. It was a strange thing to say, and when he was younger he had wondered how people could laugh and drink and reminisce before the funeral while the grief was still so fresh, but as he’d gotten older and lost more people he’d found that in the rawness of the moment it was easier to find catharsis. After the funeral, the grief had settled to a heaviness he found hard to shift.

Dodds hadn't had a wake. Instead they'd all gathered in a bar after the funeral to celebrate his life and pretend they couldn't see his father struggling to keep it together at the back of the room. He found himself drawn mostly toward Barba, who had fewer stories about Mike that he would have to force a laugh through. They’d had a few drinks together before he was pulled away by Rollins, and when he looked back Barba’s seat was empty. His heart stopped, thinking of the death threats and the sideways looks some cops had been throwing him all day, and quickly excused himself.

He found Barba outside with the sergeant on his protective detail and told himself off for panicking unnecessarily. Dodds’ death had put them all on edge.

“You leaving?”

Barba shrugged. “I just wanted to pay my respects, but this is a family thing,” he said, nodding to the bar.

“You’re part of the family,” he blurted out, knowing that Barba was talking about the NYPD but fiercely defensive anyway. “I mean you’re a part of the team, and if anyone has a problem with you being in there they can take it up with me.

Barba gave him a tired but grateful smile. “Thanks Carisi, but I get it. I don’t do well at these kinds of things anyway.”

“Me neither,” Sonny muttered, pulling uncomfortably at his dress uniform. “Do you need a ride?”

“Diaz is bringing a car around,” he said, referring to another of the cops on his detail. “Free transport, just one of the perks of the invasive babysitting.”

The sergeant standing next to them snorted and they both turned to stare at him until he looked uncomfortable and moved a few steps away.

“I really am sorry about Dodds, Carisi. He was a good man.”

Sonny nodded and swallowed past the tightness in his throat. Had this been a family funeral back home he would have hugged Barba, but grief hadn’t driven him that crazy. Instead he reached out to shake his hand at the same time Barba went to pat him on the shoulder, and they ended up in some sort of half embrace, both gripping the others arm.

They laughed, embarrassed, and let go with a mutual pat just as Barba’s car arrived. Sonny offered to go with him again, just to make sure he got home, but Barba refused.

“I'm already taking up enough of the NYPD's resources for little reason," he said sourly, glancing over at the impatient officers. "Anyway, they need you in there right now.”

With that he turned towards the car, but hesitated before opening the door. He turned his head slightly to call over his shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.”

Sonny waited and watched the car disappear round the corner with a fond smile before he returned to the bar.

 

* * *

 

“You’re a cop,” he told himself, staring at his pale drawn face in the mirror. “You’re a cop, this happens all the time, and you’re fine. Calm down.” He took a ragged breath in and closed his eyes. “You’re fine,” he muttered out loud. He rested his head against the mirror and tried not to think about the cold press of Cole’s gun against his forehead. The Lieutenant had told him to go home but he’d refused, partly out of bravado and partly out of shock, which caught up to him when he looked in that mirror and realized he hadn’t gotten all the blood off his neck. He took a few more deep breaths and looked again at his reflection, setting his face into a mask of indifference before leaving the bathroom and heading back to his desk.

He kept his head down but couldn’t help but catch Rollins talking quietly to Barba, who was tracking him all the way back to his desk. Sonny avoided meeting his gaze and pulled open his laptop instead. He bit back a sigh when he saw Barba walking towards him. The last thing he needed was to brush off another person's concern.

“Carisi.”

“Counselor.” Sonny blinked and tried to bring the words on his screen into focus.

Barba waited for him to say more but when the silence dragged on he perched on the edge of the desk and dropped a case file on top of the keyboard. He looked up in surprise.

“I came by to ask why you’re treating my cases like a law school problem question,” he said, holding up one of the several post-it notes that had been stuck to the file. “But Rollins tells me you’ve had a rough day.”

It took a few seconds for Sonny's brain to catch up with the unexpected start to the conversation but once he did he shrugged. “Things got a little hairy, but the Lieutenant handled it. No big deal. Happens all the time.”

Barba inclined his head. “I hope that’s not true,” he said softly.

Sonny shrugged again, his throat tight. He tapped a few buttons on his keyboard for effect, but he couldn’t tell if it made any difference to what was on the screen.

Barba opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He shifted, turning to face away from Sonny, and fidgeted with the edges of the post-it note in his hands. “Anyway,” he sighed. He pressed his foot against the bottom of Sonny's chair, a nudge that would have seemed accidental if it hadn’t lasted a second too long. Sonny looked down in confusion and then up, but Barba was already walking away.

He paused after a few steps. “I’ll be working late tonight. Drop by later and I’ll explain why all the notes you made were wrong.”

Sonny barked out a laugh that surprised both of them. “Give me a break, counselor. I made some good points.”

Barba didn’t turn but raised his arm in a wave. “You think? Then convince me.”

Sonny blinked after him and laughed disbelievingly. Of course he wasn't stupid, he knew Barba was trying to trick him into focusing on something else, but he had to marvel at the man's inability to couch anything in tact. He also wasn't going to let the fact that it was a trick stop him from proving himself right. He reached for the file and flicked through the notes he’d made. Admittedly some were a little rough, but then he hadn’t expected to be quizzed on them. He pulled a few of the less coherent ones and started making more notes. By the time his shift was finished he’d written a five more pages, well researched and irrefutable (to his mind), and by the last page the handwriting looked almost steady. He flexed his hand to try and get rid of the remaining tremors and tried to breathe some stability into himself, before collecting his work and heading to Hogan Place, intent on winning an argument.

  

* * *

 

Sonny had started on his second beer when someone slipped onto the bar stool next to him. He sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with people right now, not when he was trying to drink the sight of Tom Williams' broken body away. He glanced over and unexpectedly relaxed when he saw Barba, obviously straight from work, gesturing at the barman for a drink.

“I hear you saved me a case.”

Sonny gave an unamused huff.

“Sorry. That was probably in bad taste.”

“Probably.” He took another drink of his beer and stared at his hands. He kept thinking there should be some physical mark, some sign of what had happened earlier. They weren't even bruised.

Barba’s drink arrived and he swirled it round, clinking the ice. “Are you okay?” He asked it with the same kind of practiced detachment Sonny had heard him use in court.

Sonny was happy to pretend to be unconcerned too. He waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. One less scumbag in the world, what’s the problem?”

He squared his shoulders and gulped down the rest of his beer, but he could feel Barba’s eyes on him and the will to keep up the tough cop exterior quickly wilted. He put the bottle down heavily on the bar and ran a hand down his face.

“He was looking right at me when he fell. When I couldn't… I keep replaying that look in his eyes.”

Barba shook his head. “It wasn't your fault.”

Sonny looked at him sharply. “I know that. And I know he was a bad person who hurt a lot of people. But some mother lost her son today and I watched it happen.” His eyes dropped back to the bar. “I don’t really know what to do with that.”

Barba blew out a long breath, for once seemingly lost for words. “You’ll be fine.”

Sonny raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re wasted in law. Ever consider psychotherapy?”

“Not as the practitioner,” Barba said dryly. Sonny snorted and Barba cast him a sidelong glance. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

Sonny wanted to agree. Barba wasn’t naturally comforting. He wasn’t big on outward displays of emotion and was happier with sarcasm than with sincerity. And yet Sonny found himself grateful for his undemonstrative bluntness. It balanced his own more sensitive tendencies and did more to steady him than tearful embraces and heartfelt talks.

“You’re better than you think,” he said instead. Barba looked up, his suspicion softening to a smile when he saw Sonny was genuine. “How did you know what happened anyway?”

“I stopped by the precinct for something. Rollins told me.”

Sonny hummed. He'd been stopping by a lot lately. Coming by for files that could be emailed, showing up unannounced for updates that could be given over the phone. Fin just thought he was micromanaging. Sonny wasn't so sure.

"And you came straight here?"

There was a pause as Barba drained his glass. “I was thirsty,” he said, hoarse from the burn of the scotch.

Sonny scoffed. He watched Barba pick at an imaginary imperfection on the empty glass, suddenly nervous, and on an impulse reached out and covered his hand with his own. Barba stilled. 

“I’m not very good at this either.”

“No,” Sonny agreed. “But I'm not bad.” He waved at the bartender to replace their drinks. "Have a drink with me and I'll talk you through it."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am uncomfortable with sincerity and emotion.
> 
> *fist bump*


End file.
